


The Dog Days Are Over

by bessyboo, jaegermighty



Category: Life with Derek
Genre: Audio Format: M4B, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Community: pod_together, Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Podfic, Podfic Available, Podfic Length: 30-45 Minutes, Puppies, Step-parents, Step-siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-10 23:05:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bessyboo/pseuds/bessyboo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaegermighty/pseuds/jaegermighty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically Casey wanted a dog, is how it started, and what Casey wants, Casey gets. Derek’s not sure who wrote that rule but he takes serious issue with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dog Days Are Over

  
_Audio Length: 33:13_

**MP3 [23.1MB]:** [Download](http://bessyboo.parakaproductions.com/My%20Podfic/MP3s/The%20Dog%20Days%20Are%20Over.mp3) (right-click/save as)  
 **Audiobook (M4B) [12.2MB]:** [Download](http://bessyboo.parakaproductions.com/My%20Podfic/Podbooks/The%20Dog%20Days%20Are%20Over.m4b) (right-click/save as)

 

If Derek was directing the film of his own life he would probably go for a Tarantino sort of thing for this particular section, with a flash-forward at the beginning so the audience can see the dead gangsters and piles of blood-stained coke and the blown up dojo before they zip back to see how all the misery began. Not that Derek’s life, or more specifically his marriage, is _all_ misery, but let’s be honest that’s a huge part of it. Like thirty-five percent, at least.

Maybe The Hangover is a more accurate example, what with all the animals and general ridiculousness and Bradley Cooper’s excellent hair. He is most definitely Bradley Cooper.

“You are not Bradley Cooper,” Casey says irritably, “because this entire situation is your fault and your hair is not _that_ excellent.”

“My fault? _My_ fault.” Derek knees her in the solar plexus not-entirely-accidentally, but since they’re currently hiding in a broom closet he has plausible denial, which is more than enough at this point. “Your stupid dog has gone insane and chased us into our _own closet_ and is probably summoning a demon or something right now in the living room and this is somehow _my_ fault. And shut the fuck up, my hair is amazing.”

“He can sense human emotion!” Casey wails. “He obviously can tell that you _hate_ him and is reacting accordingly! If you didn’t have all these bizarre jealousy issues then this wouldn’t – “

“Jealousy!” Derek yelps, a bit too squeakily for his comfort, and yanks away from her, somehow managing to knock over a box full of rubber band balls with his left elbow. “I am not jealous! Why do we have all these rubber band balls?! What the fuck?!”

“Marti made them,” Casey says imperiously, readjusting her position on the floor with the kind of precise, snooty sort of air that lets Derek know that this conversation is not going to end anywhere within the realm of good. “And you are too jealous. Why else would you try to sabotage my relationship with my _own pet._ ”

“I did not sabotage _shit,_ ” Derek says viciously, and it kind of – deteriorates from there.

So if this were a film, acknowledging that the audience for it would be incredibly niche considering that the only people who would voluntarily watch this bullshit would be either insane or related to them, Derek would most definitely edit out the part where they get into a wrestling match over half of a granola bar recovered from Casey’s front jeans pocket. Also the part where Casey attempts to give him a wedgie and Derek is forced to resort to extreme tickling to prevent it – although he would be tempted, objectively, to leave in the more colorful insults she manages to wheeze out between involuntary giggling, like maybe edit them into a montage or something, because, damn, he’s never heard anyone work “skinny balloon head bastard” into an actual sentence before.

But this is not a film, it is sadly Derek’s real life, and the fact that he is in a closet with his wife hiding from a Labrador retriever is not something that Derek is prepared to deal with right now. Maybe ever.

“Labrador retriever _mix,_ ” Casey says, and kicks him. “Jerk.”

Ugh.

 

 

Basically Casey wanted a dog, is how it started, and what Casey wants, Casey gets. Derek’s not sure who wrote that rule but he takes serious issue with it. 

At first he said “no,” and then he said “hell no,” and then he said “Casey seriously, I mean it, no,” which he should have known would only encourage her. It’s like dangling the carrot in front of the horse, or some other metaphor in which Casey is a rabid creature who should have been put down years ago.

Her first tactic was to leave SPCA pamphlets all over the house in places where she thought he might stumble upon them, like he was going to spontaneously turn into a pet person upon seeing enough pictures of abused, big-eyed puppies. His response to this was obviously to collect them all in the glove compartment of her car and rig them to explode in her face the next time she went looking for chapstick. Which really was more of a point-making exercise than a prank because seriously, there were like fifty of them.

_RESISTANCE IS FUTILE,_ Casey texted him that day. Actually multiple times that day, in response to anything that he sent her, including the picture of his secretary’s new awful haircut and the request to pick up milk. 

After that came the YouTube videos posted every hour on the hour on his Facebook wall – and somehow she’d modified his iPhone to beep at him every time she did it and not even Evie who used to _sell_ iPhones could figure out how to fix it. And so there was the beeping, and the videos, of puppies and kittens and birds and hamsters and kinkajous, and worse, returning soldiers from Afghanistan greeting their pet puppies and kittens and birds and et cetera. It was awful.

(“I don’t actually understand why you keep _watching_ them,” Edwin had said unsympathetically, after several phone calls of bitching had already occurred. Derek was actually unsure of how to answer, as “because she would just _know_ ” only made sense inside of his head, and “I think she might be an evil witch” was just crazy.)

But what really caused Derek to break, and demonstrated Casey’s truly underrated bloodthirstiness, was the negligee. Red, silky, short, and evil. Like the woman herself, really.

“Isn’t it cute?” she’d cooed, pulling it out in the middle of the kitchen, in broad daylight, like a complete harlot. “It was kind of a splurge but Emily convinced me.”

Derek just buried his face in his coffee cup and made vague-sounding noises of agreement. 

Casey folded it precisely, sliding up next to him at the counter so that her hip brushed his with every movement. “I think I’ll just go put this away now.”

Derek stared at her. 

“I mean,” she said innocently, “unless you have any objection?”

She raised an eyebrow, one that said, _you know what I want and you’re never going to touch me again unless you do what I say, puny human._ Derek had to clutch the edge of the counter to keep from slamming his head into it.

(And God, she would wear that stupid thing to bed every single night too, he could just feel it.)

After a moment, Casey narrowed her eyes minutely, then shrugged casually and scooped up the package in one hand. “Okay, then,” she said, and sashayed out of the room, and that’s when Derek folded, like Sam, five shots into a poker game.

“Fine!” he yelled at her back, “you can get a goddamn dog!”

Casey ran back into the room, already squealing at volume levels that humans are unable to hear. Derek backed away from her warily. 

“Don’t talk to me,” he said, “don’t even – no.”

“Oh, Derek,” Casey said, hands clasped to her chest. “Thank you, and I know you’ll come around to loving him or her and I promise it won’t be much trouble – “

“I said don’t talk to me!” Derek yelped, and stormed off to go mow the lawn or fix a sink or change the oil in his car, or something. 

“I love you!” Casey called after him. Derek rolled his eyes and stubbed his toe when he kicked the vacuum on the way out.

 

 

As most women in Derek’s family tend to gang up on him whenever possible, Lizzie came along to pick out the stupid dog. Because she volunteered at an animal shelter in high school and that meant she had psychic dog whispering skills, or whatever.

“It’s actually pronounced ‘ _skillz,’_ Derek,” Lizzie said haughtily. “By the way, that squirrel thinks your hair looks stupid.” 

“You’re a freak,” Derek said, and tugged on her ponytail. “And no it doesn’t.”

Lizzie wrinkled her nose and whacked him in the shoulder with what he suspected was one of her old tae-kwan-do moves. 

“Children,” Casey said disapprovingly, smoothing down her skirt with a nervous hand. Derek eyed it suspiciously; she’d spent an extra half hour than usual getting ready that morning. He wasn’t sure how to process the fact that she was apparently nervous about her first impression with a _dog._ “Let’s try and pretend that we’re functional.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re absolutely functional, dear,” Derek said smoothly, kicking the backs of Lizzie’s ankles. 

Casey scowled and hit both of them. “They don’t give pets to insane people,” she hissed, and stormed inside. 

“She seems,” Lizzie said warily, “stressed?”

“Sister, you’ve got no idea,” Derek said, sighing heavily. 

Aiding in their search was an enthusiastic young volunteer named Amrita, who instantly bonded with Casey and Liz over something boring relating to shoes, and just as instantly rejected Derek completely for sneezing when she brushed past him to unlock the door to the “puppy room.”

“I’m allergic to pets,” Derek defended himself.

“You actually would be allergic to their hair or dander,” Amrita said, halfway paused in unlocking the door and eyeing him suspiciously, as if she wasn’t entirely sure that he wasn’t going to burst in and start sneezing on dogs at random. “And if that’s so, is there a reason you’re here to adopt a dog?”

“He has pills,” Casey said quickly. “Very, very strong pills. And we’re very confident in this decision.” She smiled, a little maniacally, and gripped Derek’s hand so tight he winced. 

Amrita’s stance softened slightly. “Oh, you guys are together? I thought you were brother and sister!” 

Lizzie snorted so loudly Amrita actually jumped.

“Uh, we get that a lot,” Casey said weakly. 

Derek started to grip back, and watched as Casey’s shoulders visibly relaxed as she leaned into him, the lines around her eyes easing slightly until she looked more like a human again and less like an animated stress-ball. 

“Yup,” he said, “so to sum up, allergic, super confident, and oddly sibling-like. Can we actually see the dogs now or do we have to sign a waiver first?” 

Amrita gave him a stare of death and unlocked the door. Winning friends and influencing people – Derek should write a book.

There was a lot of noise and unpleasant smells after that, accompanied by squealing and other various girl noises from Liz and Casey. Derek generally stood in the corner and tried not to sneeze too often, especially after Amrita handed him a box of tissues in a distinctly judging manner. 

“Derek, come on,” Casey called, kneeling in front of a cage holding a strange, powder puff-like creature. Derek could only be thankful that it wasn’t pink. “Come meet them! You have to help me decide.”

“Uh, I really don’t,” he protested. Casey just made a face. “It’s _your_ dog, remember?”

“Our dog,” Casey corrected. “And you have to be involved at least a little, Derek, a dog won’t flourish in a home where he doesn’t trust his caretakers.” She sounded a little like she was reciting, which she probably was. 

Derek inched over cautiously, smartly avoiding Lizzie who was involved in some sort of mind meld with a border collie. Derek suspected that “helping them with her skillz” had actually been code for “wants to play with random dogs.”

“Do we have to get a girl dog?” he asked, crouching down beside Casey. “Like, let’s at least pick out a breed that Paris Hilton hasn’t owned.”

Casey giggled, wiggling her fingers through the cage for the tribble to nip at. “I know,” she said, smiling. “This one’s already on hold anyway, see?” She pointed at a red tag hanging on the door handle of the cage. “He’s just cute.”

Derek rolled his eyes, already feeling the telltale signs of his emotions getting involved, which was disgusting and unacceptable. “Do they have pitbulls?” he asked. “Or what’s those demon-looking ones? Dobermans.”

“No,” Casey replied, elbowing him sharply. “You don’t actually have to be a walking cliché in order to assure people of your masculinity, you know.”

“But clichés are so fun,” Derek replied, “and require little thought.”

Casey snorted and used Derek’s knee to propel herself up, causing him to flail backwards not completely gracefully. “C’mon then Rambo, let’s find ourselves a compromise puppy.”

“Is that a technical term?” Derek asked, taking Casey’s proffered hand up. 

“Yes,” Casey said, and pulled him along behind her by his belt loop. 

In true Casey method and fashion, they visited each and every puppy in an unnecessarily logical manner, testing each one’s ability to respond to commands and look cute in cell phone pictures. Casey took rapid notes on her phone and, Derek suspected, was surreptitiously texting with Liz, who had wandered off in search of either sanity or kittens.

“I really think it’s down to these two,” Casey said, tapping one finger against her chin. She eyed her two candidates, in side-by-side cages, probably assessing their white blood cell count or whatever it is she can see when she makes that face. “What do you think?”

Derek considered them both – a white, runty looking, disheveled fellow who apparently enjoyed boxing with his water bowl, or a bulked up, spotted dude who looked even more bored to be there than Derek did. “I don’t care.”

“You have to have _some_ opinion,” Casey said, crouching down and letting the hyperactive one lick her hand frantically through the wire. “On color, if nothing else.”

Derek watched her settle down on the concrete like a kid at story time, cooing at the little rascally one and completely ignoring the filth that was slowly creeping up the sides of her favorite skirt. Her face was as lit up as Derek had seen it in quite a while, and contrary to the popular opinion of Derek’s ex-girlfriends, he wasn’t actually completely hopeless as far as emotional maturity goes. 

“I think we should get that one,” Derek said, and winced, stepping away and back from the shriek of utter joy that escaped his wife. 

“Oh my God I _knew_ it I love you thank you thank you – “

“You give an inch, she takes a mile,” Derek grumbled, but let her hug him anyway, because: boobs. And love, or whatever.

Casey just laughed and tightened her arms around his neck in that little OCD, one-two-three burst that she always does when she’s being affectionate. “We have a dog!” she exclaimed excitedly, “it’s like we’re a real life married couple now!” 

“Yeah, that whole wedding thing last year didn’t really count, did it,” Derek replied dryly. 

“Well, we did elope,” Casey said, pulling back with a dangerously speculative look on her face. It’s the same expression she wore while remodeling their living room.

“Don’t start,” he said, shutting that shit down immediately. 

Casey just wrinkled her nose at him, like _he_ was the one being silly.

“Do you think we should fence in the backyard for him?” she asked eagerly, pulling on his belt again, urging him to sit down with her on the floor. “Because there’s a lot of traffic on our street and I’m not sure – “

Yeah, Derek tuned her out.

 

 

They, and by they Derek means Casey, named him Gyp, which was a reference to one of Casey’s dirt boring English major novels where everybody secretly loathes each other and all the best characters die in the end. 

“Derek,” Casey said in a tellingly wobbly voice, “do you actually _read_ the books I give you for Christmas?”

“No,” Derek snapped, and did not bring up the stupid dog’s name again.

Gyp was a typical puppy in that he was completely fucking destructive in any and every way possible, to the point where Derek actually started to admire him a little bit. Not that having _every single pair_ of his shoes slobbered and chewed was fun, or anything, but those fuckers were on the top shelf of the closet. Respect.

Casey reacted to this in a typical Casey sort of way: by reading books, making plans, illustrating said plans to anyone who would listen, over-organizing, and sighing sadly a lot. Mostly in Derek’s general direction, and usually right after something of his got destroyed. Again.

“I’ll buy you a new one?” she would offer plaintively, holding up Derek’s formerly nice and functional, now mangled and worthless possession like a piece of evidence in a murder trial. Derek would just shake his head and wander off to get another cup of coffee. Or beer, depending on the time of day. 

Because honestly, it wasn’t like Derek hadn’t expected all of this. The general chaos and property damage that is usual for puppy owners, especially overly idealistic first-time puppy owners like Casey, was kind of the entire reason for the Great Puppy Debate. So it wasn’t anger that he felt, exactly, more like a resigned sense of weariness that only increased with each new disaster zone, or failed training exercise. 

By the time the first four months had passed, Gyp had tripled in size and successfully taken over the entire basement of the house. Casey had failed in her numerous attempts to house train him and eventually they’d resigned themselves to never using the basement for anything ever again, as it had apparently been co-opted as the personal dog toilet. There was also the barking, the never-ending, all-night, loud-as-fuck barking, and the imaginary friends that Gyp needed to growl at randomly (Derek didn’t see any other explanation; he once saw the little shit snarl at, literally, thin air), not to mention the whole…uh, humping _issue_.

“We had him fixed!” Casey would exclaim in dismay, watching through sad, disappointed eyes as Gyp defiled whatever slutty piece of furniture that had made eyes at him that day. 

“Maybe he’s got superhero hormones,” Derek would offer. It never seemed to help. 

Lizzie, the lying liar, claimed Gyp was beyond her magical animal psychic powers, and nobody else they knew was willing to stay put in their house long enough to be any help at all. This might have had something to do with Gyp’s aforementioned humping issue, or possibly his habit of trying to eat any and all objects dangly and shiny, regardless of whether or not it was still attached to somebody’s person. Maybe both. Probably both. 

“I just don’t know what to _do,_ ” Casey finally capitulated, wilting into an exhausted pile at the foot of their bed. “I have literally tried everything that I can think of, Derek. _Everything._ Short of bringing in Cesar the Dog Whisperer, I just don’t have any resources left.”

Derek already knew, deep down in his heart, that he was going to regret this. But he just didn’t have any _shoes_ left. “There’s an obedience class at the community center,” he said, and felt a dreading, sinking feeling as Casey’s eyes lit up with unnatural light. 

Which began what Derek likes to call the Honeymoon Phase – as in Casey and Gyp, not Casey and _Derek_. Which, judging by their as yet successful and happy-well-sort-of-at-least-we-haven’t-killed-each-other-yet marriage (more of a delicately-negotiated cease fire with sex, really), is the true and natural way of things and okay, maybe he’s a little jealous.

But the woman literally spent every single day working with the goddamn dog, for _hours_ at a time, to the point where Derek started contemplating whether or not he should start wearing a collar to get her to _listen_ when he _talked._ She spent her days at the studio, molding young minds into future prima ballerinas or whatever, and the rest of her time with Gyp, at the stupid obedience class or in the backyard or in the basement, doing all these bullshit things that she called “laying down boundaries” and “establishing a connection” and “ignoring her husband.” 

“These things take time,” is all she would say, and waft off, dangling the leash and muttering about rain clouds and the effect of weather patterns on Gyp’s disposition – really? _Really?_

She even started to smell like the damn thing too, because she always had dog hair on some part of her person. He began to sneeze whenever she came near, which made meaningful contact a bit more difficult than usual and sex freaking impossible, which was the most unfair part of all since that was the one perk that Derek had thought he was going to get out of this entire situation.

And so maybe Derek became a tad… _resentful_ of Gyp. But to be fair, the situation is preposterous, mostly because Derek’s life is preposterous, and sometimes he just feels the need to express his frustration about that in…slightly destructive ways. Like yelling at his wife’s pet whenever she was out of earshot. (Which was crazy, let’s be clear, Derek is aware that it was crazy, but let’s also be clear that Derek up and married his stepsister, he is obviously not dealing with a full deck here.)

To Gyp’s credit, his opinion of Derek didn’t change; for all he cared Derek could rant himself hoarse as long as his food bowl kept getting filled. At least that’s what Derek thought, until this afternoon when he started yelling at the TV and Gyp flipped out and scared Casey so badly that she made Derek hide with her in the upstairs broom closet. 

This is the point in Derek’s autobiographical biopic where the audience can finally understand and appreciate the unparalleled depth of his frustration and despair. 

“I cannot _believe_ you,” Casey says disgustedly. “All I have been trying to do is provide a loving home for Gyp and you just couldn’t _stand_ it, could you, you just had to butt your big nose in and ruin it – why? Why Derek? What reason could you possibly have to emotionally damage a _puppy,_ for pete’s sake?” Casey throws out her hands to articulate her point, smacking Derek in the shoulder. The rings on her hand dig into his collarbone – probably on purpose. 

“I was not emotionally damaging anything,” Derek mutters mutinously. 

“You bullied him,” Casey says flatly. “You’ve been _bullying_ a _puppy._ ”

“Oh, for – “ Derek bites down the rest of the sentence before he can invite some true physical injury. He may be stronger than Casey, but she’s got a mean right hook, she could do some real damage before he takes her down. “I’m so sorry that I’ve been _expressing my feelings_ in my _own house,_ okay _._ But honestly Case, if the dog can’t handle loud voices than he’s not going to do very well with us anyway.”

Casey crosses her arms and glares at him.

“And admit it,” he cajoles, “you’ve been going a tad overboard with the training thing.”

“I will not,” Casey says, aghast. “That’s stupid and absurd.”

“This whole thing is stupid and absurd!” Derek exclaims. “We’re fully grown adults hiding in a closet!”

“Which is _your_ fault and not mine!” Casey shoots back.

“Oh please. Look if you care about the stupid dog that much then fucking take him, okay, I’ll leave you _both_ alone to have a long and fulfilling life together.”

Casey makes a wordless sound of frustration, and then bursts into tears.

“Oh, shit,” Derek says, because: crying, and also this is a bit of an overreaction considering he just essentially told her that if she liked the dog so much she should marry it. “Case. Sweetheart.”

Casey lurches forward, collapsing into Derek’s lap and burying her face in his stomach. Derek rests his hands on her shoulders gingerly, because it’s always a 50/50 guess with a crying Casey on whether or not she’s going to accept his clumsy attempts at comfort, or hit him with various objects until he runs away. 

“I’m sorry I’m giving you abandonment issues!” Casey wails, voice half-muffled by Derek’s shirt and what he is sure is a fairly healthy amount of snot. “I didn’t mean to, I was just trying to – to – “ she hiccups, “ – provide a stable home environment and – oh God, I’m just _so tired_ of playing fetch – “ she breaks off to hiccup again, and descends into pitiful mumbling and sniffling. Derek rubs her back helplessly. 

“I don’t…have abandonment issues?” he tries. Casey doesn’t seem to hear him. 

“This is much more complicated than the SPCA pamphlets implied it would be,” Casey says miserably. Derek can practically _feel_ her deflate beneath his hands. 

“Casey. Case. Baby.” Derek laughs incredulously. “Come on, take a breath, okay. Let’s talk about this instead of blubbering at each other, you know how I feel about blubbering.”

“You do disapprove of blubbering,” Casey says reluctantly, face still buried in Derek’s henley, soaking the edges with her various fluids. Derek sighs – screw Casey’s stupid books, _this_ is real love.

“C’mere,” Derek says, hefting her up until she’s somewhat upright, if still wavering and leaking from the face. “I’m sorry I’ve been bullying the dog. Okay?”

Casey nods, wiping ineffectually at her face.

“We’ll fix it. I’ll come with you to the obedience classes or something. Or I just won’t yell anymore – “ Derek breaks off, flinching. “Well, I’ll work on it.”

Casey’s expression manages to express her extreme disbelief at that statement, even with all the tears.

“I swear! You’ll help me. Right?”

Her face crumples again slightly and she leans forward, not quite in his lap like before but still not managing to hold herself up of her own volition. “I’m sorry I made you feel like I loved Gyp more than you,” she says, painfully earnest, and no, it really can’t get any worse than this.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” he says, groaning. 

“Just because I’ve been spending a lot time with him lately doesn’t mean that my feelings for you have changed and I didn’t mean to make you feel neglected and – “

“Casey,” Derek says, as seriously as he can manage, “if you keep talking about this I’m going to have to stab myself in the face with something.”

Casey makes sad eyes at him. “I just should have considered your feelings,” she says. 

Derek sighs. “Baby, we really need to move on from this now and agree that we were both temporarily insane.”

Casey seems to consider this for a long moment before nodding, reaching out and smoothing down Derek’s shirt reflexively, hands fluttering nervously around his neck. “Fine,” she says, “and don’t call me baby.”

“Sure, sweet cheeks,” Derek replies. “Would you like to clue me into the dog obsession secret now? I’ve been very patient.”

“No you haven’t,” Casey scoffs. “And – well. No. Not really.”

“Really?” Derek says skeptically.

Casey shrugs, fiddling mindlessly with the band of Derek’s watch. 

“You know you want to tell me,” Derek pushes. “You want it so bad you’re blushing.”

“I am not,” Casey squawks, which is totally a lie. “I just.” She takes a deep breath, her bangs fluttering on her forehead delicately. “I thought it would be a step, you know. Like buying this place, or the whole eloping thing.” She rolls her eyes. “Owning a pet. It’s so – _respectable.”_ Derek cringes at the open wistfulness on her face. 

“Case, I thought we agreed that it was best for everybody that you stop trying to prove points to yourself.”

“It wasn’t a point, it was a _step,_ ” Casey says irritably. “And shut up.”

Derek snorts. “Because we’re so good at following steps.”

“ _I’m_ good at following steps,” Casey says, just to be contrary, Derek suspects.

“Rules are not steps,” Derek retorts. “And what about our personal history led you to believe that we could follow any orderly pattern? Because remember that time that instead of attending our wedding, which we’d been planning for a year, we got drunk and went to the courthouse? Because I do, and it was awesome.”

Casey bites her lip against her smile. “It was impulsive and silly,” she corrects primly, “and yes, okay, awesome.”

She reaches up and starts fussing with his collar, for no apparent reason at all other than it’s there and it’s probably wrinkled and that offends her personally, and Derek thinks, _there is no possible way that I could love this ridiculous woman any more than I already do_. 

“You’re such a weirdo,” he says instead. Just because he thinks it, doesn’t mean he has to say it. 

“I love you too,” Casey replies, grinning slowly, and no. He definitely doesn’t have to say it. 

 

 

“So let me get this straight,” Nora says, at the next obligatory family gathering, “you guys _emotionally traumatized_ your dog?”

George, sitting next to her, with his head on the dinner table, is laughing so hard he’s actually begun to turn colors. 

“It’s not funny!” Casey cries. “It’s – _George, stop it_ – he’s a very sensitive creature and we’re trying to create a positive environment where he can – “

“We traumatized the dog,” Derek interrupts. “Because we yelled our feelings.”

Nora seems caught between disbelief and extreme, intense exasperation. She picks up her water glass and for a second, Derek is ready to duck, but all she does is flick some of it in her face. 

“Do you guys need help?” Marti deadpans. “Because they hand out these pamphlets at my school about abusive relationships and – “

“I will kill you,” Derek informs her evenly. 

“This is why there needs to be more regulation when it comes to pet adoption,” Lizzie says heatedly. “They just give them out to _anybody_!” Her ‘anybody’ seems to strongly imply ‘stupid freaks like my pseudo-incestual siblings.’

Casey makes a vaguely distressed face and Derek steps in. “Hey, we’re not starving him or beating him or insulting his figure every day, we just – well, we can’t really yell anymore, because it makes him start barking like we’re being robbed. And that’s a problem.”

“Our neighbor called the police on us once,” Casey says sadly.

“Whoa, hold up,” Edwin interjects, “so you’re saying that _nobody_ can yell around the dog? Like, at all?” 

Derek looks over at Casey, who is biting her lip and staring intently at her wine glass. 

“Oh my God,” Nora says faintly, and then the entire table explodes with laughter that makes the dishes rattle. 

“Ugh, you guys suck!” Derek shouts over the din.

“You’re all officially uninvited to our Thanksgiving dinner party,” Casey says commandingly. 

“I think I’m gonna pass out,” George says through a gasp, reaching out and clasping Nora’s hand for support. 

“This is all your fault,” Derek tells Casey, scowling intently at Marti, the giggling traitor.

“Shut the hell up,” she says. 

“I love you too,” he replies.

**Author's Note:**

>  **moirariordan:** thanks be to bessyboo, who is wonderful, and to paraka/podklb/everyone at pod_together for putting all of this together. It was an absolute blast. :) ETA: CANNOT BELIEVE I FORGOT TO MENTION thebucketwoman, who did a beta read for this thing and was generally a stupendous person as usual. Please forgive me, mwah. Also, Bess was actually very awesome to put up with, so don't believe anything she says.  <333!
> 
>  **bessyboo:** thank you SO MUCH!!! to moirariordan, who, 1) put up with my general inability to respond to emails and meet deadlines, 2) was an absolute CHAMP for how quickly she wrote this, and 3) WAS UP FOR WRITING FIC FOR A CANADIAN CHILDREN'S SHOW THAT ENDED YEARS AGO, because OTP foreva, yo. I had an awesome time, and Casey will basically get never old to read aloud ;) Additional thanks, obviously, to paraka and klb ESPECIALLY, for ALSO putting up with my general inability to respond to emails and meet deadlines. YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST  <333 And EXTRA EXTRA special thanks WITH A CHERRY ON TOP to [reena_jenkins](http://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins) and [@alexwlchan](https://twitter.com/alexwlchan) for editing this for me when life got stressful and deadlines were approaching and I couldn't bring myself to open Audacity. ILU GUYS :DDD ♥


End file.
